No name
by Pekenota14
Summary: Clint will always be the slave of love and Natasha will forever be the villain. What happens when one of them changes? (Clintasha, single-chapter)


**A big, big thank to Gaga4Jeyna for being, again, my loyal beta reader. I might promote her to honorary beta reader!**

**This fanfiction is set in the early years of Natasha and Clint's partnership, a little after she joined SHIELD. Hope you guys enjoy it.**

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_Pray that your loneliness can spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for._

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The place was a warehouse full of shelves that surpassed a person's height by four or five times. The warehouse seemed endless with rows and rows of shelves littered with boxes filled with important and classified documents. The platforms were strategically placed about 16 feet from the floor. The floor was a grid. Even though the platforms were close to the ceiling, there wasn't actually a good way to tell if anyone was up there. The hovering dust danced in the air due to the big fan in the ceiling which also caused the particles to become visible when near the big lamps.

Clint sat at the top, completely focused on what was happening below him. Standing on a high platform, arms enlaced around the rail, he watched Natasha and one of her former buddies from the KGB. He knew she was playing a double game, but he had always believed she had a bit of good in her. Right now, she was attempting to exchange money for a flash drive that he had stupidly helped her steal. In times like this, Clint realizes she may never fully embrace SHIELD as he so wanted her to, and that it would be better to let her go. But he couldn't. A small part of him still believed there was good in her so much so that when her not-so-friendly-buddy pulled out a gun, he jumped down from the platform, even though he knew she could subdue the man herself in a matter of seconds.

"If you hurt her-" Clint began speaking, but was interrupted.

"You've brought back-up," the man said, moving his aim to Clint who was defenseless without a gun, knife, or, most importantly, his bow.

"He's no damn back-up." Natasha looked back, her face completely annoyed because her business had been turned into a flop and to make it all worse, now Clint was there. "Shoot him if you want."

With that said, the man shot at Clint. Clint could feel a metal chunk burning in his chest. He didn't know he had been shot at first, meaning the first couple of seconds. He saw the bullet exit the barrel and tear through the air around him as it flew right to his chest where it lodged comfortably. He fell on his back, realizing that something had just cut through his skin and muscle. Then the blood started bleeding out and quickly seeped through his fingers as he put pressure on his own wound.

Natasha was long gone by now, having left the KGB man dead on the floor and Clint suffering. She had taken the pen drive with her. As she ran, a scornful smirk spread across her lips, as she came up with more evil plans and what she would do next. She could easily claim that Clint died in the line of action when questioned by SHIELD. But why had Clint been there? He had to be a hell of a stupid man to put himself in harm's way for her. Sure she worked for SHIELD, or as she put it, she works for SHIELD, but still moonlights as a killer for hire, for other people; people with questionable motives. She was sure that Clint was aware that she wasn't going to change, that she was only using SHIELD as a cover and their partnership as a benefit. He was a good partner in the field, and the sex was great, but that was it. Clint was just another guy who had fallen for her charms.

Natasha suddenly felt a twinge in the heart and started running back to the warehouse without even giving it a thought. She found him still lying on the floor, having moved no more than a foot away from where she last had seen him collapsing. The Widow tossed the flash drive away and knelt next to him, keeping pressure on his wound.

"Ya know," he wheezed between groans, "this is the first shot I've ever taken for someone."

"How is it feeling so far?"

"Fucking awesome!" He sarcastically commented. "I can barely contain myself thinking about the next time I'll be shot."

Natasha chuckled. She had never found anything or anyone worth displaying a happy feeling for. She didn't even know what happy really meant. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been shot in my ass once."

"Um, that's nice and leaves a lot to my imagination."

"That's good," she told him, casting a quick glance at him. "Keeps your blood running to some other places."

"How come I didn't see the scar before?"

"I don't get scars." Realizing that he was losing too much blood, she said. "There's no time to get help, I need to get that bullet out of you. I'm going to have to cut you open."

"Go ahead."

The Widow froze and frowned. He trusted her with a cutting weapon. She had been handed a scalpel once, and the woman she attacked was left to die with five organs damaged. It was heartwarming but somewhat irrational that he would trust her so much. He was a damn idiot. She didn't need the back-up. More importantly, she didn't need him taking a bullet for her. Well, Natasha had a bit of guilt because of that. She didn't deserve anyone's trust, but he always had her back even when she betrayed him. That had happened a couple of times now.

"Are you sure? I can kill you-"

"I trust you," he simply muttered.

Natasha let out a sigh. Nobody had ever said that to her. Maybe it was time to change. If Clint could see something good in her, then there might be something good in her after all. Perhaps she could use her skills for good, to help others. But mostly, she didn't want to lose Clint and his trust, his passion, his company. He was the first to challenge her. Without even trying, she had made him a slave of her love. She decided that she was going to change. No more being the villain. She wanted an identity apart from the Black Widow. She wanted to be Natasha, or better yet, she wanted to be Tash, Nat, or Tasha for Clint. And only for him.


End file.
